


Caution's for the Wind

by Kittycrackers (Calacious)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: cottoncandy_bingo, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, From pre-slash to established relationship, M/M, Prompt Fic, Rain, Songfic, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Kittycrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan gives into an impulse brought on by the rain and Reid's mouth, so close to his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rain

The rain was coming down in torrents as Morgan stepped off the plane in D.C. He hefted his carry-on over his shoulder and ducked his head, knowing that, even before he started the run toward the awaiting vehicle, he wouldn’t be able to avoid getting drenched. 

It was cold, the sky a slate gray and cloudless. Thunder rumbled overhead and Morgan shivered. He attempted to shrug off the ominous feeling that the foul weather inspired and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. 

Reid was somewhere behind him, the sound of his footsteps drowned out by the overpowering pounding of the rain against the asphalt. Morgan chanced a backward glance, but the wall of rain made it impossible for him to see the younger profiler. 

He was soaked by the time he reached the black SUV, its color and size the only reason he’d been able to see it through the thick curtain of rain. His fingers, numb with cold, fumbled with the handle and he cursed as they slipped off the rain-slicked metal.

“Here, I got it,” Reid shouted to be heard over the rain. 

His mouth was so close to Morgan’s ear that the younger agent’s breath tickled the hair at the back of his neck, and Morgan swallowed, hard, at the unexpected sensation that the feeling of Reid’s breath, hot and moist, brought with it. Morgan closed his eyes, and tried not to think as Reid reached around him to open the door. 

Morgan tensed as Reid’s arm brushed against his shoulder. Heat radiated from the slender man, and Morgan could feel the doctor’s compact muscles contract as Reid pulled the door open. Morgan tried to breathe through the moment, tried not to let his imagination get the better of him, but when he turned to thank his teammate, Reid’s crooked smile was his undoing.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Morgan drew the younger agent’s face down to his, and, in spite of Reid’s startled, “Ah,” he kissed the man, relishing the awkwardness of the moment and the doctor’s taste – an amalgamation of sweet and salty that merged with the copper of the rain.


	2. I Love the Rainy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid hates the rain, but he's starting to come around to a new way of thinking.

Reid doesn’t like rainy nights; they always make him feel a little on edge. And when lightning is added into the mix, he finds them downright terrifying. Thunder so loud that it makes his teeth chatter. No, there isn’t anything good to be had on a rainy night.

It’s with an undo amount of trepidation that he disembarks the plane when they reach D.C. It’s raining; the sky’s an inky black, and it’s impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of him, but he can clearly make out Morgan’s figure as his teammate makes a mad dash toward the waiting SUV.

Shaking his head at Morgan’s impulsiveness, the man is running through the rain without an umbrella, there’s no doubt in Reid’s mind that his co-worker will be soaked by the time he reaches the vehicle. Reid hastens after him, steadfastly trying not to jump when thunder rumbles overhead. 

“Morgan!” he calls, but his voice is drowned out by a loud clap of thunder. 

He quickens his pace, intent on helping the now soaking man who seems to be having difficulty with the handle of the SUV. He shakes his head as Morgan’s fingers slip, they must be numb with cold and Reid can’t help but wonder at how long and nimble the other man’s fingers are.

“Here, I got it,” he shouts to be heard over the roar of the rain. 

He’s standing a little closer to Morgan than he feels strictly comfortable with and can feel the slight tremors that run through his teammate’s sturdy frame. Reid can feel Morgan’s breath, warm and moist against his neck, and, in spite of the man’s shivering, he can feel heat emanating from him. 

What happens next – Morgan’s fingers, frozen and stiff from the rain wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling him forward – drowns out the ensuing crash of thunder, and a soft, “Ah,” escapes him, like he’s been sucker punched in the gut. Except, instead of pain and the inevitable contraction of muscles as he curls in on himself in an attempt to protect his abdomen, the tension is like a snake coiling in his gut. 

Morgan’s lips aren’t soft and pliant like a woman’s. They are strong, demanding, and more than just a little greedy. Reid’s lips part as another soft moan comes from somewhere deep within him, and then there’s tongue and teeth, the taste of mouthwash intermingling with the musky cologne Morgan favors. It’s a manly mixture that goes straight to Reid’s groin.

The umbrella falls to the ground, forgotten, as Reid closes the gap between them, his fingers finding purchase on Morgan’s shoulders, digging into them. The thunder dies away, lightning flickers in the distance, like fireworks flashing in the heavens, and Reid is completely lost in his partner’s mouth, relishing the stubble gracing the man’s chin, the clash of teeth and the way their tongues vie for dominance. 

It’s with an aching, desperate groan that they part, gasping in air thick with the taste of copper. The rain continues its assault on them as they stand there, foreheads resting one against the other, panting, and grinning like two school kids making out for the first time. 

“Fuck,” Morgan murmurs. 

Reid can only mutely agree, Fuck. 

Thunder booms overhead, and he shivers. Drawing warmth from Morgan’s body, he brushes his lips lightly against the other man’s, not wanting this to end. But the others will be there soon; they will only wait so long for the rain to abate.


	3. It Never Rains, but it Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining, they are working on a tough, disturbing case and Reid can't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for hc_bingo prompt: taking care of somebody. Does feature sex.

Sleep is elusive. Reid shifts his weight in the bed, lets his head fall back against the pillow. It’s raining, the sound of thunder gives him goose bumps and he rolls onto his side, facing Morgan, but not touching.

He feels cold and dirty and exhausted. It’s been a long, hard day. The case they’re on is nowhere close to being solved, and Reid just wishes that his brain came with an off-switch, because he’d really like to stop seeing the pictures – little boys and girls, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition by a monster, probably in his mid-thirties, who kidnapped and murdered children. Always in pairs – one boy, one girl. And always, always, the man cut out their tongues post mortem, so that they couldn’t speak the truth about what had happened to them. Indicating that he was afraid of being discovered, being thought of as the monster that he is. 

He’s grateful that Hotchner made the room assignments. That the unit chief had put him and Morgan together. That the highly perceptive man didn’t appear to know about their closely guarded relationship. 

It is still new, this thing he has with Morgan. It began with a kiss in the rain. He’d wound up with a mild case of walking pneumonia and Morgan standing on his doorstep with a Styrofoam container of chicken noodle soup in one hand and a movie, Singing in the Rain, in the other. 

Sex hadn’t factored in until later. After he was well, and once cases and room assignments which had separated them were out of the way. 

He’d been awkward and unsure – all arms and legs and sloppy wet kisses – blushing and babbling like a virgin. Morgan hadn’t been any of those things. He’d been as sure of himself, of what they were doing, as he had been on the day that they’d kissed – the rain cold and piercing, biting their skin.

Reid can still remember their first time together as though it happened yesterday. The picture of male perfection that Morgan made with his skin sweat slick, muscles taut and firm and flawless, as he waited for Reid to adjust to his girth. The way he’d kissed and bit and marked Reid in places that only the two of them would see afterhours, in intimate moments. 

He remembers the feel of Morgan inside of him – hot and hard and moving like a freight train – completing him, and making him see stars and pant out, “More, oh please,” and, “fuck,” as he dragged his nails down Morgan’s back and bucked his hips upward so that he could add to the friction and increase his own pleasure. He recalls how he hadn’t wanted it to end, but that it had ended anyway, with Morgan coming inside of him seconds after he’d shouted out his orgasm and coated them both with his cum. 

A streak of lightning illuminates the room, shakes Reid from his memories, and lengthens the shadows, causing them to take on gruesome shapes. The musty air of the hotel room is electrified. The acrid scent of iron fills Reid’s nostrils and raises the hair on his arms. 

The clap of thunder that follows is loud and wakes Morgan. His body jerks, and his light snores come to an abrupt stop with a snort. 

Morgan reaches for him, casually pulls and coaxes until Reid’s head is nestled snugly beneath his chin, and Reid can hear the man’s steady, calming heartbeat. Reid shivers and wraps an arm around Morgan, seeking comfort, because this day has been hell and it’s raining and he can’t stop the memories: Morgan making love to him, and the images of crime scene photos. He can’t keep them from bleeding together, melding his personal life with his professional, and terrifying him, because he can see Morgan’s body twisted and mangled, severed tongue buried in a shallow grave beside him.

“Reid? You okay?”

“It’s raining,” Reid says.

Morgan chuckles, the way the sound rumbles in the man’s chest reminds Reid of a cat’s purr, and he rubs Reid’s back, paying particular attention to the tense muscles lining his shoulder blades. At first Reid tenses more, but then his muscles and his anxiety give way beneath Morgan’s determined ministrations. 

“I’ve never met anyone else who hates the rain as much as you.”

Morgan adjusts their positions so that he can look into Reid’s eyes, and he pulls Reid into a kiss. It’s nothing but lips and a gentle nibbling and sucking along the jaw. Morgan’s touch makes Reid’s skin itch and tingle in its wake.

Reid reaches up, cups Morgan’s cheek with a shaky hand as thunder cracks and rolls. It makes his teeth rattle in his head, and it unnerves him, but Morgan is warm and his arms wrap around him and he’s telling him that it’s okay, that he’s got him, and that he doesn’t need to be afraid of the rain anymore. 

He doesn’t think that he’s ever told Morgan about why rain scares him so much. He hasn’t told a living soul about the time that his mother, in one of her less than lucid moments, had locked him outside in the rain because he hadn’t eaten his vegetables. He’d been four at the time, and the rain had soaked him through, to the bone. It had thundered and the lightning had lit up the sky with vivid, white streaks. 

He can still remember how lightning had struck a tree in the neighbor’s yard, setting it aflame even in the downpour which had eventually tamped out the fire, but not until after it had emblazoned itself in Reid’s memory – the flames had licked and eaten at the tree, leaving it charred and black. The next morning, his mother had remembered him and opened the door. He’d been sick for weeks afterwards, and had feared the rain ever since then.

Reid lets himself relax and melts into Morgan’s embrace. He doesn’t have to say anything, Morgan knows what to do. He hums Johannes Braham’s, “Lullaby.” His voice, soft and low, soothes Reid into a peaceful sleep not haunted by the pictures of the case they’re working on or memories of being trapped outside in the rain. 

When Reid wakes in the morning, light is streaming in through a gap in the curtains, painting Morgan in a wide swathe of gold. He’s sprawled out over the man, head lying on Morgan’s chest, arms wrapped around the man like he’s an overgrown teddy bear. He kisses the man awake, feels Morgan’s half-hard cock poking into his thigh and slides his hand down to rub a thumb over the head of it. 

“The rain’s stopped,” Reid mumbles around a kiss. 

Morgan smiles, stretches and his breath hitches when Reid squeezes his balls, rolling them between thumb and forefinger. Reid sucks on a nipple, bites hard enough to leave it. Morgan’s dick twitches in response. He growls, and pushes at Reid’s other hand, silently begging him to continue what he’s started. 

It isn’t long before Morgan comes in response to Reid’s strategic touch. Reid knows that they have only a matter of minutes before Hotchner or Rossi or one of the girls will be pounding on their door, demanding that they get ready to roll out, so he gets Morgan off quick, knowing that Morgan will reciprocate later, when they have more time. Morgan rides out his orgasm in inelegant spasms that leave him spent and breathless. 

Seconds later, there’s a knock on the door, and both men sigh and share a chaste kiss. Reid rolls off of Morgan and heads into the bathroom to shower and wash off the remnants of sex. As the cleansing water cascades over him, he can hear Morgan calling out that they’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.

‘Fifteen minutes,’ Reid thinks, and then he hurries, knowing that Morgan will need to shower after him. There’s no way they can shower together, not if they want to get out of the room on time, not if they don’t want to raise suspicions. 

It isn’t until later that night, after the case has been closed – the monster caught, questioned and locked up – that Reid feels like he can breathe again. Morgan’s spooning him, and he can’t sleep, but it isn’t because of the rain or non-stop memories. 

He loves Morgan. The realization hits him like a fist to the gut at first, but then it settle over him like a soft, comfortable blanket. He falls asleep watching Morgan sleep.


	4. Washed Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid is Morgan's soul mate. He was told this by a gypsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for SpaghettiTacos. The request was for Morgan/Reid and the prompt: bruised.

It's raining. The sky's a dark gray in color and thunder rumbles overhead. Morgan's head jerks up to look out of the window and a streak of lightning illuminates the night. He knows that Reid, were he lying in bed beside him, awake and trembling slightly because of the storm, would be flush up against his side, spooning him, trying his best to ride out the storm. And, they'd kiss – slow and leisurely – just tongue and lips and maybe teeth.

Morgan studies the quiet, still figure on the hospital bed. Reid's face is a mottled mess of bruises and cuts. None of them are very deep and they don't require stitches, but it looks painful, and ghoulish.

Morgan and the others had been informed that Reid's chest, back and thighs were covered in a multitude of thin gashes, made from a fillet knife. There were other bruises too. Bruises, which are currently being hidden by the blue hospital blanket which covers the young agent.

Not for the first time since they'd found Reid, at the mercy of yet another one of their unsubs, Morgan wishes that it had been him, rather than the younger man, who'd been taken by the paranoid schizophrenic who was suffering from delusions which had made him highly unstable. Morgan wonders what Reid's been through. The young agent still hadn't uttered a single word.

Reid had been conscious when they'd found him, but he'd remained unresponsive when the paramedics had asked him questions, when Morgan had touched his arm, when he'd been loaded into the back of the ambulance. Rain had streaked down his face in rivulets, and Reid had been oblivious to it all. It was at though the young genius had shut down. He wasn't letting anything or anyone in, and that scared Morgan.

Morgan sits down in the chair beside Reid's bed, and tries to ignore the sound of the rain pounding on the roof of the hospital. It's been raining nonstop since Reid was taken, and doesn't show any sign of letting up.

He and Reid have been seeing each other for a couple of months now, their relationship is still very new, and yet Morgan feels as though his very heart is being ripped out of him. Seeing Reid in pain makes it hard for him to breathe.

Morgan doesn't know what to do, and that makes him angry, because he always knows what to do in any given situation. There isn't anything he can say. He isn't sure that Reid, in his current state of mind, would be able to hear him anyway.

"Reid." Morgan's voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. He leans forward and brushes his lips across Reid's forehead where there's a small patch of the man's skin which is unscathed.

Reid's breath hitches, the heart monitor does a double blip and then steadies into a normal rhythm, and Morgan wonders if he'd imagined it. He waits a few heartbeats, his eyes track the mountain like ridges and grooves on the computer monitor, and then he moves to settle back into his chair.

Lightning lights up the dimly lit room, casting shadows along the wall, making the equipment and IVs that Reid is hooked up to look like misshapen monsters. Short and fat, skinny and tall.

Morgan sighs, and runs a shaky hand over his head. This time it had been too close. They'd almost lost Reid – he'd almost lost Reid.

"Reid, I can't lose you," Morgan doesn't look up as he speaks, instead he stares at his palms, studies the lines and the thin blue veins that are barely visible.

"Not when it feels like I've just found you. Did I ever tell you about the time Garcia dragged me to a palm reader?" Here, he looks up, and not unexpectedly, Reid's eyes are still closed, the heart monitor's continuing its steady beeping.

He looks down at his hands, and traces the longest line on his palm – the lifeline – and then the line which the palm reader had indicated was his love line. This one intersects with that of his lifeline. She'd said there was something different about it, that it was unusual and had peered closely at him, her dark eyes boring into his. And then, inexplicably, she'd smiled and patted him on the shoulder and nodded.

"It was while we were in England," Morgan says, and he spares another glance at Reid before returning to scrutinizing his palm. Thunder rolls, and the wind shakes the windowpanes.

He can't remember what she'd said all of the other lines meant, but, that doesn't matter, because what she'd said had stolen his breath, even as he'd laughed. She'd shaken her head and frowned at his reaction.

' _This is no laughing matter.' She'd poked him in the chest with a ring bedecked finger. 'You mark my words Derek Morgan, in less than a month's time, you will find your true love. The man with whom you are destined to spend the rest of your life. It is written here,' she'd dragged her fingernail down one of the lines in his hand, 'and here,' she dragged her nail down another line, 'and here.'_

"She told me that I was going to fall in love," Morgan says. "I laughed it off. But then there was that one night, in the rain, and, and Reid, I just knew. Her words came back to me, and I knew that it was you she had been talking about." Morgan grasps Reid's hand, squeezes it, listens to the rain and remembers the first time that they kissed.

"So, you see, Reid, you've got to wake up, you've got to come back to me, you have to make it through this. You're my heart, man. That's how the palm reader described you. She'd called you my heart, said that my heart line," and Morgan pauses to trace that line on Reid's hand, "was incomplete, that it was twined to that of my soul mate."

The beeps of the heart monitor speed up, and the hand that Morgan's holding squeezes back. Morgan holds his breath, waits a few seconds just to be sure, and then he tears his gaze from Reid's palm to look at the man's face.

Reid's watching him with a wariness that Morgan has never seen in the younger agent's eyes before, but they've lost that glazed look that they'd had when they'd first found him, and Morgan finds that heartening. It gives him hope that, with help, Reid would recover from this too.

"Soul mate?" Reid's voice is weak and it cracks on the last word. He coughs and Morgan slips a straw through Reid's lips, letting the man drink some of the lukewarm water that had been placed on the bedside table.

"Soul mate?" Reid asks again, and he shivers when a streak of lightning flashes in the window.

Morgan nods and smiles a little self-consciously. He rubs a hand along Reid's arm. Hearing Reid say the words aloud makes it real, and anchors it in the here and now, gives it more weight than the cryptic ramblings of the palm reader. His heart lurches in his chest when Reid gives him a slow, shy smile in return and squeezes his hand a second time.

"I like the sound of that," Reid says.

"Yeah, me too."

A loud clap of thunder causes Reid to tremble, and he closes his eyes and murmurs something that Morgan can't quite make out. He leans in closer to hear and Reid's lips ghost across his ear, making Morgan shiver almost as much as the words themselves: "Morgan's coming. Just hold on a little longer. He won't let you get washed away by the rain."

"No, no I won't," Morgan says, and then he gathers Reid up in a hug, taking care not to jostle the injured man too much.

"I was so scared," Reid confesses, "but not of the unsub. Morgan," Reid laughs a little hysterically, "I understood, you know, at the back of my mind that he couldn't stop himself. I was afraid of the rain, of the thunder of the lightning, and I missed you. I missed waking in your arms; I missed the scratchy feel of your stubble against my cheek; I missed waking to your morning breath; god, Morgan, I thought I'd never see you again, that the rain would somehow wash me away."

Morgan doesn't care how it will look to the hospital staff or his team – he'll come up with something to tell Hotch and Rossi, should they ask – he cares only about Reid as he lowers the railing of the hospital bed and then lies down next to the other man. The thunder, lightning and rain continue throughout the night, and into the early hours of the morning, but neither man pays it much heed, because they have, in each other, shelter from the rain.

Morgan reminds himself to thank Garcia for dragging him to the palm reader, and then he falls into a peaceful sleep with Reid's head tucked beneath his chin and his body wrapped loosely around the other man's – like a cocoon. Reid _is_ his heart, his life, his everything.


	5. Umbrella Sharing and Other Worthwhile Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining; Morgan watches Reid as he sleeps, thinks about why he loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the cotton candy prompt - sharing an umbrella (took me forever); and the song, "Stay," by Rihanna. It's also raining. A rare thunderstorm where I live.
> 
> Feedback would be nice - if anyone out there is reading, enjoying.

There's something about the way that Reid sleeps – one arm draped over his eyes, the other clutching his pillow, body curled tight, tucked up next to Morgan's, warm and offering comfort, even while he seeks it – that Morgan finds intriguing. Makes Morgan want to never leave the bed. Never leave Reid.

It's raining.

They've nowhere to go. No pending cases. But, Morgan can't sleep. Can't shake the feeling that something's going to happen. That this stolen moment of peace is going to be shattered.

Reid's mouth is open, slightly; his chest's bare, and Morgan traces the most recent injury, a thin, jagged cut made with the blade of a hunting knife– courtesy of the latest serial killer they've brought down – with the tip of his finger. It's puckered, pink, not yet a scar, but it will be.

Reid's so thin. Fragile. Human. Breakable. All of the things that Morgan fears most in life.

And yet, the man has an inner strength. A core of steel. He's no bruised reed bending in the rain.

No, he's strong. Stronger than many give him credit for.

Reid's never liked the rain. Doesn't like the wet. Doesn't like thunder and lightning. Brings back bad memories, Morgan suspects.

So, when the thunder cracks and rolls, following a sizzling bolt of lightning that illuminates the room, and Reid's breath hitches, Morgan presses his lips to Reid's temple, murmurs soft reassurances, holds the man until his breathing evens out. And then he resumes his watch.

Whispers, "I love you."

Reid's lips twitch as he smiles in his sleep, and Morgan settles down next to him, breathes deeply, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

The rain smells like dirt and pennies. Reid smells like pressed cotton, cloves and coffee – like home; like love.

Reid turns in his sleep, flings his arm out to the side, nearly hitting Morgan in the head with it. He loosens the tight grip that he has on his pillow in favor of pulling Morgan closer and squeezing. He tucks his face into the crook of Morgan's neck, and sighs deeply.

Breathes out a slurred, "Stay."

Makes Morgan wonder what Reid's dreaming about. He closes his eyes, sifts Reid's hair through his fingers. It's silky, smooth, like the rain outside, running through his fingers. Reminds Morgan of simpler times. Times he wouldn't trade for this, because moments like _this –_ holding Reid in the dark watches of the night while Mother Nature wreaks her havoc; comforting him when he wakes from a nightmare – are well worth the complexity that comes with having Reid in his life.

The complexity of nightmares and worries and oddities that make Reid, Reid, are made all the more worthwhile, all the more precious, by a series of such moments – each singular, each unique, each magical in their own, special way.

Moments like kissing Reid beneath a shared umbrella. Feet getting wet and cold, because Reid's an umbrella-hog and Morgan kind of likes that; doesn't mind getting wet – not if it's for Reid. Doesn't mind the cold, because he knows that, afterwards, when they're home, lying in bed together – sheets a tangled mess – debriefing from a long, hard day, Reid'll warm him up.


	6. Scattered Buttons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid likes to hear Morgan laugh, tries not to obsess over the little things - like how they'll be picking loose buttons off the floor for years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Blue October's, "Clumsy Card House".
> 
> Not sure if anyone is still interested in reading this drabble series. Let me know?
> 
> Thanks.

Reid falls onto the bed. It’s a move that’s almost clumsy in his execution of it, but it’s on purpose – an idea that sprung into his head all of five seconds ago – and he pulls Morgan down, on top of him. On top of the sheets and the bedspread.

Morgan laughs. It’s an unfettered sound, and it echoes off the walls, echoes inside of Reid’s head, fills him from head to toe with happiness.

And, he loves this.

Loves Morgan.

Loves to hear Morgan laugh. Loves to be the one that makes him laugh.

It’s raining.

Just a light drizzle, but they’re wet. And, normally, Reid would worry about that. He’d worry about getting the bed wet and the lingering scent of mold that would hang in the room for days afterwards.

But, he wants this more. Wants the carefree sound of Morgan’s laughter at this impromptu act on his part to fill their room.

Wants Morgan.

Wants to get down and dirty, and stay wet. Wants Morgan to warm him up. Wants to get Morgan all hot and bothered while he does it.

“Let’s get out of our wet clothes.” Morgan’s voice is husky, and he tugs at Reid’s belt, loosens it.

Reid reaches out with fingers that are trembling, but not with cold. They’re trembling in excited anticipation of what’s about to happen, because it’s been days since they’ve had a chance to be alone together.

He loosens the ridiculous tie that Morgan had decided to wear to work that day. He uses it to drag Morgan in for a kiss before pulling it off completely and flinging it behind him to land on the floor or the bedside lamp. Doesn’t matter. It’ll be there in the morning, or maybe Reid will reclaim it later, use it to tie around something other than Morgan’s neck.

Reid’s breath hitches in his throat when Morgan jerks on his pants, pulls them down over Reid’s hips, and Reid shimmies out of them, kneels on the bed, hands on Morgan’s shoulders, and they’re still kissing. He’s clad only in white socks and his button down shirt. Helps divest Morgan of everything but his gun holster.

Morgan’s hands slide up beneath Reid’s shirt, and Reid shivers, back arching, toes curling as Morgan maps out his chest, lips trailing down his neck toward his collarbone, and the shirt has to go. Reid shudders, anchors himself by moving his hands to Morgan’s hips, and, though he’s prepared for what’s about to happen, he stiffens in expectation, breathes out a strangled moan, and latches his mouth onto Morgan’s neck when Morgan’s hands push up and out, sending the buttons of his shirt flying across the room.

They’ll be picking them up for days afterwards, and Reid knows that not all of the buttons will be found, tries not to let that bother him – they’re only buttons, and this isn’t one of Reid’s favorite shirts, had been one of Morgan’s least favorites.

Maybe, years later, they’ll be stumbling into their room after a long day at work, and Morgan will curse when he steps on a wayward button, and, they’ll remember this moment, or others like it – the keen heat building inside of their guts, twisting and releasing itself, the feel of hands, fingers, on cool skin, damp from the rain – and, together, they’ll fall onto the bed, laugh, and make love until the chill leaves them.


	7. Walk in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is not easy; but it is easier to deal with when you've got someone by your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No clue why Passenger's, "Walk in the Rain," inspired this, but it did. This particular double and a half drabble is written in past tense, unlike the others, and I'm going to let it be in past tense, honoring the way that the writing came to me.
> 
> Warning: Features a character (not main) death.

It was a sad day. The rain hadn't stopped falling, and in a way, it was completely fitting, and Morgan wouldn't have it any other way. Not with the soul weary ache in his chest. Not with how broken and battered Reid, the love of his life, was.

He was physically fine. But Reid's heart was hurting, and along with it, Morgan's.

"Reid." He placed a hand on Reid's shoulder, squeezed, didn't expect a response.

"We should -" He let his voice trail off.

They should leave, but he couldn't get the words out, wouldn't force Reid to leave his mother's grave until he was ready to. He stood beside Reid, not feeling the cold bite of the rain as it drenched them. The umbrella was long forgotten in the car. Reid's cheeks were pale, hollow, tearless, wet only from the rain.

"We should go." Reid's voice was small, nearly drowned out by the rain.

Morgan nodded, wrapped an arm around Reid's shoulders and let his partner lead the way. It wasn't hard, letting Reid take control in moments like these. Not hard at all.

And when Reid raised his head, pressed his lips, cold and almost blue from the rain, against Morgan's, he didn't balk at giving Reid what he needed. It was bitter and not at all like any other kiss they'd shared. Reid took, and he willingly gave, feeling slightly breathless and lightheaded and broken afterwards.


	8. Fire and Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid wishes he could sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Inspired by James Taylor's, "Fire and Rain". Written primarily in present tense, because that's how this particular double-drabble and a half chose to be written, inasmuch as anything can choose to be written.

He can't sing. Not that he's ever tried, not even in the shower.

Looking over at Morgan, head resting on his arms, eyes half-lidded in bliss, makes his heart soar, and Reid wishes that he _could_ sing. That there was some way that he could give voice to the overwhelming feelings welling up inside of him.

His heart feels like it's going to burst and Reid sighs, reaches out to touch the source of his musing, trails a finger along a rippling bicep and shivers at the memories this act elicits. Memories of heat and rain and two bodies twined together beneath thin sheets, making love in time with the rumbling of thunder, the flicker of lightning.

There was a time when Reid had feared thunderstorms and the nightmares that they brought with them as horrors of his past resurfaced. Now, though, he almost longs for them, longs to be wrapped up in Morgan, as they make an electrical storm of their own - sweat and static electricity sparking through the sheets from the friction that they create.

Morgan smiles, lips curling smugly, dark eyes beguiling, and Reid curls up beside him, rests his head on Morgan's chest, lets the dulcet rhythm of his lover's heart lull him to sleep.

It's not singing, but it's a music in and of itself - Morgan's heart beating out a song unique to them after their lovemaking. A song that Reid's heart has no trouble matching. Synchronicity at its finest. He may not be able to sing, but his heart sure can.


	9. Sun Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid's a demigod and Morgan's a mere mortal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by, Kimie's, "Dance with Me."
> 
>  
> 
> Feedback is invaluable, and really appreciated.

["Dance with Me," by Kimie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFpYXTvxZow)

It's raining, though the sun's shining. Reminds Morgan of his childhood. The uncomplicated days, back when he'd been untouched and innocent. Back when he'd run outside to play in the rain.

Sun showers, he'd called them. The gold of the sun made the drops of rain look like little golden coins falling from the sky. Golden raisins.

Morgan wonders if there'll be a rainbow as he trails his fingers along the outer edge of Reid's thigh.

Reid looks so young in his sleep. Untouched by the evils of this world.

Morgan's heart skips a beat, and, overcome with an emotion that he'd given up hope of ever feeling, he bites his lip, brings the featherlight touches closer to Reid's hip.

Reid wakes slowly, smile forming on his lips before his eyes open, and Morgan holds his breath, because Reid is a demigod, and he's a mere mortal.

Raindrops cascade down their bedroom window, creating an almost stained glass look as the sun shines through the panes, making it impossible to see what's happening outside. Picasso, Dalí, Pollock, Manet, have all used their window as the backdrop for their art.  
Not that Morgan cares what's going on outside of his bedroom window at ten in the morning on a rare day off.

He's got all that he needs right here - a naked Reid, long limbs tangled in their mussed up bedsheets, smelling of sex and lavender.  
They'd danced last night, bodies engaged in a fiery tango that had left them both sweaty and sated.

Wanting more, but too exhausted to give more than they already had, they fell asleep, limbs entwined, Reid's head resting on Morgan's chest.

"You're beautiful," Morgan says, throat constricting on the fervent whisper, hand poised above Reid's cheek, fingers itching, but fearing to touch.

Reid captures his hand in his own, squeezes.

"Make love to me?" Reid's voice is husky with sleep, and he draws Morgan's hands up to his lips, kisses the upturned palm.


	10. Rain Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid hates the sound of thunder; Morgan has an idea that he thinks will help Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song, "Shadows in the Rain," by Sting which was recommended by a guest reviewer on fan fiction dot net. 
> 
> I deliberately use the present tense, and poetic devices (poetry is my first love in writing) in this story.
> 
> Feedback -- let me know if you like, and if you know of a song that involves rain/thunder/lightning, that you think would be inspiring for this pairing.

The sound of thunder wakes Reid, and he lays as still as he can, holding his breath, counting the space between one crack of thunder and the next.

_One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississ..._

"Reid?" Morgan's voice, sleep-drugged, brings the return of Reid's breath in a rushed intake of air that _hurts_.

His heart pounds in his chest, drowns out the next booming crack of thunder. Lightning strikes, and Reid can see the profile of Morgan's face in the brief flash of light that follows. His eyes are only half open, heavy-lidded.

"C'mere," Morgan beckons, hand reaching blindly for Reid.

They'd rolled apart sometime during the night, and the sheets feel cold, empty. Reid shudders, hastens to close the gap between them as thunder rattles the apartment's windows.

"Shh," Morgan whispers, pulls Reid tight against his side. "'S nothing but a little thunder, babe."

Lightning illuminates the room, casts long shadows on the wall from the branches of the trees, and Reid closes his eyes, rests his head on Morgan's chest, listens to the steady beat of his lover's heart. Takes comfort in not being alone.

He flinches when thunder rolls, like a bowling ball, across the sky.

Lightning comes too quickly for Reid to count in Mississippi's how much time has lapsed between the sound and the overly bright light that quickly winks out of existence, but not before making half-formed shapes jump as shadows - optical illusions that make a discarded jacket look like a monster; a pair of jeans, pooled on the floor, a black hole - before they're plunged into darkness, the shadowy images ingrained in Reid's mind.

Childhood memories flood him with the onslaught of rain that batters the window.

"I hate the thunder," Reid mutters, fingers tracing the jagged outline of a scar on Morgan's stomach from memory.

"I know, sweetheart," Morgan says, presses his lips to the top of Reid's head. "How about we do something to take your mind off of it?"

Reid blinks at that, turns his head so that he can see Morgan's face. There's a wry smile gracing his features, and his eyes are filled with lust.

They'd both been too exhausted to make love that night, had only had the presence of mind to strip off their work clothes before they'd fallen into bed. Had it not been for the thunderstorm, they'd have slept through the night.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, but that's not what makes Reid tremble. It's the heat in the look that Morgan gives him, in the man's hands where they move along the inside of Reid's thighs.

Reid twists, spreads his legs, moves so that he's straddling Morgan, resting back on his elbows, facing the man he's grown to love, legs resting on either side of his lover's body.

In spite of the rain and thunder, the exhaustion, he's hard. They both are.

And when lightning strikes close enough to give the raindrops that have gathered on their bedroom window shape on the headboard - rain shadows - Reid's barely aware of it. Morgan's hands, his heartbeat, his tongue, teeth, and lips make it impossible for Reid to notice anything else.

Thunder and lightning combine in one loud roar that rends the night air, sends electricity through both men in their coupling.

Reid's body is spread wide open for Morgan. His fingers dig into the man's shoulders, finding slippery purchase on skin slick with sweat.

Morgan's mouth - hot and wet - and his talented tongue, conspire together - work everything loose inside of Reid.

Childhood terrors are shattered into small splinters that hold no sway over the adult, because Morgan's mouth, his hands, the way that he moans - his throat vibrating and sending shivers throughout Reid's body, along his spine, making his back arch - override everything else, electrify him, drown out the thunder and the rain, cast overriding shadows on his haunted childhood.

And when the thunder sounds again, over and over, Reid's voice, ragged and hoarse, nearly drowns it out when he comes in a cacophony of disjointed sounds that are rent from him by his lover.

They're like thunder and lightning, one coming right after the other.

_One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississ..._

Morgan comes from the taste, the feel, the sounds that Reid makes, and the raw knowledge that it was he who'd wrought them from the younger man.

Limbs tangled together, bodies sticky with sweat and the aftermath of making love, they fall asleep to the gentle cadence of the rain; the thunder, a distant, echoing memory.

* * *


	11. Raindrops on a Windowpane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid watches the rain, Derek tries to coax him back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a much needed downpour that I wish had left us with cool, rather than hot, air.

There's a downpour. It's a much needed rain, but that's not what Reid is thinking about as his eyes follow the path that a single raindrop, in the midst of hundreds, makes down the flat surface of the windowpane, carving a cool path through the foggy mist. He reaches out to touch it, hesitates, draws back. 

A hand curls around the back of his neck, anchoring him to the present though his mind wants to bring him back to a when he was a little kid, and the insides of his bedroom windows weren't steamed up by sex. To a time when he could see his reflection, clear as day, in windows that reflected as much as they showed -- the tree in the front yard bending beneath the onslaught of heavy winds; his face streaked with tears. To a time when the sound of thunder booming and the sight of lightning making a white-purple streak across the sky, frightened him. 

"Come back to bed, babe," Morgan's voice is a whisper, drowned out by a clap of thunder, and he squeezes the back of Reid's neck.

Closing his eyes, Reid relishes this moment. Bare feet on cool, wooden floors; the sound of rain pounding on the roof, sluicing down the outside walls; Morgan's breath on the back of his neck, warm and moist.

Reaching behind him, Reid twines his fingers with Morgan's and leans back against his lover. 

"Let's watch the lightning storm," he says, though the windows are opaque from their earlier lovemaking, the only visibility created by jagged streaks made by lone raindrops rolling down the panes.


	12. World's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rain's stopped, and Reid contemplates the man at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Mumford & Sons', "After the Storm".

The storm's all but cleared. Only stray droplets falling from the sky, tap gently on the windowpanes, and Morgan, legs twisted in the bed sheets, turns, tugs Reid closer, nuzzles against him.

A few day's worth of stubble scrapes Reid's chest, his cheek, and he wants nothing more than to simply lie there, dismiss the rest of the day, and pretend that they're at the world's end; no one left but the two of them. Every day a lazy Sunday, and every moment meant solely for the both of them to enjoy. Savor as though it is the last.

No regrets.

Nothing to fear.

Nowhere to be, other than within each other's reach.


	13. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining, has been for days, and Reid can't get warm enough. Thankfully he's got a living, breathing furnace lying beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Inspired by the rain. It has been raining on and off (mostly on) for a couple of days now. Winter in Hawaii. 
> 
> Let me know if you like this. Mahalo

It's raining. Has been for days now. And Reid is cold. Feels it down to the marrow of his bones as the driving rain pounds down on the roof, slaps at the windows and outside walls of his new home. It's in a good neighborhood, with a decent school district, and kind neighbors.

Derek's dead to the world, sleeping in spite of the howling winds, the creaking of their house as it 'settles', and the fact that Reid's been reduced to an ice cube. Even with Reid's cold toes pressed beneath the warmth of his calves, Derek continues to quietly snore, not even stirring in his sleep.

They're 'domestic partners', marriage just around the corner. Reid's never been happier. Never more terrified, worried that he'll somehow manage to screw this up.

They've just had their new house repainted. Some quick drying, weather resistant, energy efficient house paint. It's a neutral color. A cross between beige and dove grey. 

_Grassy Savanna,_ Reid recalls the name of the paint, and snorts. There's nothing grassy about it, and it doesn't make him think of Africa at all. It's a good color, though. One that blends in with the other houses on the block.

Derek's soft snores are drowned out by the downpour, the tinny tink, tink, tink of the rain hitting the drainpipe. He remembers the first time that Derek kissed him, how it had drawn him out of himself, protected him from dark memories of rains from long ago.

He thinks that, if it wasn't for the cold, and the howling winds that sound like someone's screaming, he might, with Derek by his side, even start to enjoy the rain. Its staccato rhythm, the way it makes everything look fresh and new, more alive, afterwards, raindrops clinging to leaves that glisten in the sun's warming light.

Reid burrows beneath the blankets, tucks himself close to Derek's side, insomnia robbing him of sleep, as much as the nonstop rain and cold do. Trying to siphon off some of Derek's natural heat, like a leech seeking blood, Reid presses himself flush against Derek's side.

_My own personal furnace,_ Reid thinks, smiles as he traces the curve of Derek's jaw line with an index finger, presses his lips to Derek's temple, his brow (smooth and relaxed in sleep), the hollow of his neck. 

Derek stirs then, eyes closed, turns toward Reid, wraps his arms around his lover, and Reid buries himself within Derek's embrace. 

"Better?" Derek mouths the word against Reid's ear, and it's more a breath of syllables than an actual word, like the moaning of the wind as it batters against the drainpipe. 

Reid nods, Derek's warmth spreading through him now that the man's wrapped around him, holding him tight. He might even be able to sleep tonight, but if he can't, at least he'll feel safe, and secure, lying in Derek's arms, sheltered from the rain.


	14. Loving You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid's never been called beautiful before; he's never been in love either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to alixcharmed's recommended, "I Just Can't Stop Loving You," by Michael Jackson.
> 
> Hope that you like this.

[I Just Can't Stop Loving You, by Michael Jackson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPSS0B1iemQ)

 

They're lying next to each other, fingers twined together, Reid's feet sandwiched between Morgan's calves, keeping his toes warm.

The wind's howling outside, but Reid feels safe and content ensconced beneath the sheets; Morgan's body flush against his. 

He needs this. Needs Morgan's heat on such a cold, stormy night. 

Morgan draws their entwined hands to his mouth, brushes his lips across Reid's knuckles, making him shudder, and his breath hitch.

"You're beautiful," Morgan whispers, breath tickling Reid's ear, filling his stomach with butterflies. "Absolutely gorgeous."

No one's ever called him beautiful before. Reid's always been skinny and awkward. The clumsy kid that everyone teased, and no one wanted as a friend, let alone anything more. The embodiment of the ugly duckling. Reid's never liked that story.

He'd been all long limbs, and knobby knees. For the longest time, he tripped over his own two feet, like a newborn foal just learning to walk. 

The wind blows, making the tree outside of their bedroom creak and tap at the window as though seeking an audience with the lovers. 

Reid swallows, turns his face toward Morgan, presses a kiss to the crook of his lover's neck, feels the pulse rushing beneath his lips, and relishes the way that Morgan's heartbeat starts to gallop when Reid's lips latch onto his collarbone, sucking, biting; tongue laving at a spot that always seems to be his lover's undoing. 

He's never had anything like this before. 

Has never been in love. Doesn't know exactly what to do with any of this, or what to make of the way that his heart seems to sing Morgan's name, blood calling out to the man he loves.

He's never needed someone as much as he needs Morgan. Now. Forever.

It's an ache that starts deep in his gut and twists his insides until his head's reeling, and it's all he can do to remember how to breathe. 

It's overwhelming, and yet it's the most amazing feeling in the world.

Reid feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest when Morgan moans, body trembling beneath his when he rolls on top of him, and presses down, hip to hip, erections rubbing together at a slow, steady pace as the storm continues to ravish the world outside of their bedroom window, kicking up dust, rending leaves from branches and tossing them every which way.

Reid's heart is pounding, filled to bursting with love, and the wind is calling his name. His gut clenches, and his toes dig into the mattress when Morgan, following Reid's lead, comes seconds after he does, and together, they ride out their orgasms, cum slick and sticky between them. 

The wind fingers the shingles, pulling them up and then letting them bang against the roof one at a time in a cacophony -- Mother Nature applauding their lovemaking, giving them her unequivocal approval.

He's sweating and Morgan's breath, hot and ragged, makes him shiver where it comes into contact with his overheated skin. 

"I love you," Reid says. Means it in a way that he never thought would be possible. 

Reid doesn't believe in fairy tales. He's not an ugly duckling turned swan, or a frog prince; Morgan's not his Prince Charming. They're just two men. In love. There's enough beauty in that. 

Unable to keep the tears from falling with the admission, Reid lets Morgan hold him until the tears cease, head resting against his broad chest where he can hear Morgan's heartbeat, steady and sure, no regrets. 

The wind dies down, and Morgan maps Reid's body with his fingertips, leaving a trail of goose-flesh in their wake. 

"My beautiful boy," Morgan breathes the words out against the back of Reid's neck, kisses it. "I love you, too."

Their breathing evens out into sleep, and the next morning when they wake the sun's shining an orange-gold that peeks through the slats of their blinds. They lie side-by-side, fingers twined together, Reid's feet nestled between Morgan's and the mattress. 

Content and sated -- love the warmth between them -- they stay that way for a while, reveling in sun's golden glow, the aftermath of the night's storm, and their lovemaking. 


End file.
